


Lo Que Tu Alma Escribe

by DillonPower



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22034962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DillonPower/pseuds/DillonPower
Summary: TJ’s worries that his feeling for Cyrus would ruin his friendship. He decides that he wants to share his feelings, but has trouble expressing them.
Relationships: Cyrus Goodman/T. J. Kippen
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Lo Que Tu Alma Escribe

TJ paced his room while he kicked and three random objects that were in his path. He knew that today was coming but didn't want to believe it. He wanted to tell Cyrus for the longest time, but never found the right time, or the right words.

He checked his phone to see if he had any missed calls or messages. Of course, he didn't. Not now, not three minutes ago when he last checked, or even six minutes before that. He knew it was useless to keep on checking. Cyrus has only left a day ago and they said goodbye in person. He just hoped that Cyrus would call and never hang up.

He tried to calm down and not think of the worst. Cyrus would only be gone for the summer. He could manage three months without his best friend, or so he thought. This situation played out so differently in his head. He would come out to Cyrus before he left and express his feelings, hope that Cyrus would feel the same, then end up dating before Cyrus left for some writing program. Things are so much harder when you actually have to turn thoughts into actions.

TJ figures that it would be a long shot that Cyrus would be into boys too, but he kept seeing mixed signals. From the pet names that only they call each other, the over affection they gave that most male friends shouldn't do, and the weird texts that they send each other that looks more like a relationship than a friendship. God, if only he could put to words how he felt.

A soft knock came from the other side of his bedroom door. His dad slowly opened the door and peeked inside. When he saw TJ laying face down on his bed with audible cries was when he entered the room.

"TJ," his dad started. He closed the door and sat next to him on the bed. "What's going on, buddy?"

TJ kept his head stuffed in his pillow. "I'm an idiot."

His father patted his back. "TJ, just because of your disability, that doesn't mean that you're an idiot. You're great in other subjects."

"Definitely not in English. I can't even speak."

"You're speaking now."

"Dad!" TJ screamed as he lift his head and propped up on his hands. "Not like that. Geez, you just don't get it."

"Maybe I don't eat it because you're not telling me everything that I need to know. You're not talking properly."

TJ cried harder. "That's what I mean! I can't speak!"

"Boy, what's going on?"

TJ wipes his face and sat next his dad. "You know that I'm gay, and that I have a crush on a certain boy. Well, I wanted to tell him how I feel but I couldn't figure out what to say. It's like my brain couldn't function. That's why I think I'm an idiot. I couldn't think of any way to tell him. Do you understand now?"

His father breathed deep. “Son, feelings done come from the brain. They come from within.”

“But my brain is within me.”

“Not like that. From within, I mean your heart, but most importantly your soul.”

“But how can I do that?”

“You have to search inside and have it come out naturally. It’s not something you think about and process, it’s something spontaneous.”

“Do you really think that’s true?”

“Hey, it’s how I got your mother. So maybe you can give it a try.”

“Something that happened like fifty years ago isn’t going to help now.”

His father laughed. “Son, I’m not even fifty yet. And love doesn’t have an age limit.”

“How can I do anything? He’s all the way at a writing program.”

“Write him a letter.”

“Dad, we don’t have letters anymore. It’s not 1783 like when you used to have to send letters.”

His dad laughed harder. “Funny how you keep getting older with these things. For your information, people still write letters. Writing is better than texting because you can see the effort the put into what they’re saying. It’s a classic move and that always makes things better.”

“If you say so.”

TJ got off the bed and opened the door. He pointed out, signifying for his dad to leave.

TJ, once he dad left, pulled out a notebook and turned to an empty page. He grabbed his lucky pen and wrote Cyrus’s name on the top of the page, making sure to include a heart at the end. Before he started writing, he tried letting his soul do the talking. It took a minute, but it finally came.

Cyrus Goodman. Loyal, kind, sweet, and the most awkward yet lovable people I have ever met. You are so perfect that there aren’t even words to describe you perfectly. You don’t have to edit photos because you naturally shine. You can never be corrected because you’re always right. You always know how to make me laugh, even after I lose a game. You mean to much to me that it hurts. This friendship is like the only thing I have right now and it hurts knowing that it could end. I love you, Cyrus. More than a friend should. I don’t know when these feelings started, but they’re here. I wanted to tell you in person before you left, but I couldn’t figure out how to. Even though this could ruin our friendship, I just needed to let you know the truth.

TJ signed his name at the bottom and folded the paper. He exited his room and found his dad sitting in the living room. He asked for an envelope, to which he received one. He placed the paper in, sealed it, and went outside to his mailbox.

He stood in front of the metal box, waiting for who knows what. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with it. One part of him said yes so that he could let go of this burden, but the part that says no reasons that it would mess things up. He decided to go with his soul on this choice and stuck the letter inside.


End file.
